


Collateral

by 4badmice



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past and Present, Rating May Change, Snippets, Tales of Merlin and Galahad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4badmice/pseuds/4badmice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is going to be a collection of stories about Merlin and Harry, with appearances of the other Kingsmen, of course. They are not necessarily sequential and are set some time before the events of the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tinker, Spy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: "Kingsman" doesn't belong to me.

  
  
  
Being the Kingsman wizard by and large could be a lonely job. Merlin spent a lot of hours alone in front of an array of screens or in his workshop „tinkering“, as Harry called it, devising new gadgets or improving old ones. „Tinkering“ didn't even remotely apply in Merlin's opinion, but then again, what did Harry know? He was rubbish when it came to technology, and freely admitted as much. “At least I know not to poke around in the toaster with a fork if the bread gets stuck,” he once said with a shrug, “and for the rest, I've got you.” “You sure know how to make compliments,” Merlin had replied, only barely keeping a straight face.  
  
Merlin actually liked a bit of solitude once in a while. Admittedly, sometimes it could get tedious, especially since he didn't have a dog anymore. Before his last dog passed away, there had always been someone to talk to if the long nights became too silent, always a warm and solid weight pressing against his legs, the sound of quiet breathing underneath the desk.  
The absence and the appendant feeling of loss which still made itself known whenever Merlin allowed himself to ponder these matters was something he was never prepared for. On those occasions he was glad if Harry was around because Harry was also someone he could talk to. Contrary to a dog, Harry even talked back, but he was good at sensing when he needed to withdraw in order not to distract Merlin. Which was a blessing, because Harry was able to distract the other with his mere presence; Merlin simply didn't manage to ignore him as he ignored everybody else if need be (Arthur included). Harry Hart, unlike anyone Merlin knew, had something radiating about him which was exciting and at the same time calming. Utterly, utterly distracting, that, apart from being strangely wonderful. Whenever Harry wasn't around and for some reason or other not online either, the world seemed a little duller.  
  
Tiredly, the wizard rubbed his burning eyes underneath his glasses; it was three o'clock in the morning, and the symbols on the screen tended to melt together at this point. He blinked a few times to clear his vision; he hated leaving things unfinished, therefore going to bed usually was out of the question until he was done. He was used to working late, which wasn't a problem. After several days of increased activity due to terrorist threats and having all the agents out there however, during which Merlin had barely left his terminal, the strain was beginning to make itself known with a vengeance. It was different than being in the field; missions usually were a mixture of tension and exertion, waiting and action, patience and quick decisions. There was an ebb and flow to them, powerful rushes of adrenaline alternating with a certain suspense but sometimes not even that; some phases were quiet to the point of being dull.

Mission control, especially if one was monitoring several different ones at the same time, required an all-time high of attention, and of course, there was tension on a personal level if one was friends with the people on the other ends of the intercom. The latter demanded for Merlin to detach himself to a certain degree, which wasn't always easy, not only because of Harry. There was a certain sense of helplessness involved while watching without being able to intervene directly; apart from providing surveillance and an additional pair of eyes and ears, there was only so much Merlin could do. Well, not counting everything he was doing anyway, such as keeping their equipment up-to-date and making sure everything was running smoothly. Which incidentally was why he was still up.

  
He was so concentrated that he didn't hear the quiet footsteps which were approaching and flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder: "What are you doing?" Harry asked.  
It was one of the many things which made him lovely, Merlin thought. He would never come in and use commonplaces like "It's late" or "Shouldn't you go to bed?". He knew that there was a reason for the tech wizard to still be up and wouldn't dream of assuming otherwise.  
"There was a glitch I needed to see to," Merlin replied, subtly leaning into Harry's touch; he was shaking ever so slightly by now from lack of sleep, and Harry was marvellously solid. "I think I've got it sorted now."  
"Good." Harry's hand wandered down Merlin's arm to find his hand: "Care to join me, then?"  
Merlin allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and, after one last glance at the screen, only now looked at Harry, who was still wearing combat clothes and looked ruffled, a rare sight. _Impeccable_ was Harry's second name, after all.  
"When did you come back?" Merlin asked, frowning, because Harry usually preferred to shower and change  at once when a mission was completed.  
"You know when," Harry retorted, "two hours ago."  
"So?"  
"So I decided to wait for you."  
Merlin just raised an eyebrow in question.  
Harry rolled his eyes in a rather ungentlemanly fashion: “I noticed that transmission stuck a few times. Obviously, you'd still be up fixing it, and I was hoping you might want to join me in the shower.“  
The notion that he had waited for him had Merlin smile: “Okay,” he said, far too tired to express his gratitude more eloquently.  
“You're exhausted,” Harry stated, looking him over with evident concern. “When did you last sleep?”  
Merlin sighed: “Which day is it?”  
“I see.” A smile ghosted over Harry's face. “Come on, I'll take us home.”

  
Merlin fell asleep in the shuttle, too worn out to keep his eyes open. After Harry had successfully gotten him to his feet once they had arrived in Savile Row and steered him through the shop to the waiting cab, Harry realized they'd have to postpone the shared shower; Merlin was dead on his feet. He slept on in the car, huddled into the corner of his seat, and groaned theatrically when he had to get out; he would have slept in his clothes if Harry hadn't helped him to undress. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was fast asleep again. With a fond smile, Harry pulled the covers up around him and went into the bathroom.

  
The first time Merlin and he had met 13 years ago, Harry had just had a little... mishap, one might say. He had tripped- simply tripped, of all stupid things to happen, and had spilled tea all over his shirt and the front of his trousers. At least it hadn't been too hot anymore, but the shirt looked to be ruined. He was on his way to the transit in order to get changed, cursing under his breath, when, after rounding a corner, he had found himself face to face with Arthur and a stranger. Well, Harry had seen his profile and technically knew who he was: he had just won himself the probably most important job at Kingsman.  
"Galahad," Arthur greeted him with was an unmistakably amused smile, "may I introduce you to our new wizard. Merlin, this is Galahad."  
They shook hands, and Harry felt himself scrutinised by a pair of green eyes which didn't in the least betray what their owner was thinking of him.  
"Shouldn't have tried to walk and drink tea at the same time," he said, feeling oddly and uncomfortably inept, "excuse me."  
With that, he all but fled, convinced that their new wizard must think him an idiot.  
  
Over the next few weeks, he gradually revised that thought. Merlin was a serious man but surprisingly pleasant, as Harry found out soon enough. He was calm and methodic and only ever lost his countenance with the equipment, never with the agents. Who had unanimously accepted the new voice with the slight Scottish lilt; to them, Merlin's knowledge and skills were essential, and if he had been chosen, he was the best there was, it was as simple as that: Kingsman didn't settle for anything less.  
Harry had been friends with the previous Merlin, who had dropped out due to illness, and he knew that the wizard's job could be a lonely one. It meant long hours in the control room, keeping contact with and watch over several people, and yet brought with it the vague sense of being left out. Being their additional eyes and ears didn't automatically make Merlin an equal with the other agents. Even though he was a vital part of the missions, Merlin rarely accompanied the Kingsmen, simply because it wasn't necessary. Which didn't mean that he wasn't working hard, or that he didn't have any experience. In fact, in his previous life, he had been in some Special Forces or other, Harry hadn't memorized which. There had to be a reason why he had applied for a job like this, which was after all rather different from his previous occupation. The new Merlin was interesting, in Harry's opinion, and he was determined to get to know him.  
  
"Evening," Harry said, poking his head around the door to the control room, two weeks after Merlin's arrival. "I brought you some tea."  
Merlin turned around to him and raised an eyebrow: "Will you be needing a towel?"  
"Hilarious," Harry replied, setting the spare cup down,"I'm not usually so clumsy."  
"And do you usually supply your tech guy with tea?" Merlin asked, regarding him over the rim of his glasses.  
"No," Harry said nonchalantly. "But I'm curious."  
The eyebrow rose up once more: "About me?"  
"Yes."  
"Why?"  
Because there's something about you and your damn green eyes and your damn voice that is incredibly appealing, Harry thought.  
Aloud, he said: "Comes with the job. My name is Harry, by the way."

And that was that. Things had developed from there, slowly, inexorably. The other Kingsmen never knew; they had no idea that the voice in Harry's ear was gradually becoming more than just being mission control to him. He felt better, knowing Merlin was there, watching, listening, supervising, and it always made coming home so much the better.

  
Just as tonight, he thought when he crawled into bed and under the covers; Merlin had turned onto his side and was so severely out of it that he didn't even stir when the mattress shook under Harry's weight. He settled down and watched the other man in the early twilight filtering in through the curtains: he'd never tire of the sight of him. He looked younger in his sleep, vulnerable. Involuntarily, Harry smiled once more; Merlin wasn't nearly as tough as he made people believe. He had his susceptibilities, which Harry was familiar with after such a long time together, and which endeared Merlin even more to him.  
Yes, being the Kingsman wizard could be a lonely job indeed, Harry mused, but he hoped that he was making it up to Merlin whenever he could. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes.

 

TBC


	2. Banter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who left Kudos and/or comments, it's very encouraging!

 

 

Kingsman agents, despite their excellent skills and equipment, weren't unassailable. Harry had learnt that long ago: even the best laid plans could go pear-shaped due to some mishap or other, and everyone, without fail, made mistakes. Prior to each mission, it was advisable to prepare as well as possible, of course: acquainting oneself with the circumstances for example wasn't only damn useful but might also save one's life. And yet- no matter how well prepared one was, something unexpected might arise at any given moment and wreak havoc. The Kingsmen had been trained to react adequately in such a situation, but that wasn't a guarantee for success (one of his former candidates had paid with his life for that, which, apart from no small amount of grief on Harry's part, still smarted whenever he thought about it, even years later).

And some assignments were just god-awful from the beginning, a complete pain in the rear. It was understood that a gentleman wouldn't allow himself to be affected by something like that, but Harry was inclined to lower himself to lesser ranks if it had meant to avoid those jobs.

He idly pondered this on his way back to UK HQ, pressing a bag of ice against the side of his face as he sat in the transit. The next time Merlin needed someone to infiltrate a gang of bikers, he was going to refuse. The leather outfit had been horribly uncomfortable and his ears were still ringing from the din in the decrepit old pub he had been forced to spend a lot of time in.

He shuddered delicately; the music had not been the worst in that hovel.

 

“Galahad.” Merlin greeted him with a sombre face, but Harry knew that he was subpressing a grin. 

He grunted: “I'm too old for jobs like that. Next time, send someone else.”

Merlin still looked as though he was having trouble not to betray his amusement: “But you did brilliantly,” he said airily. “We got all the information we needed, there'll be a surprisingly large number of very unhappy drug lords in the next few days.”

Harry lowered the bag of ice and gingerly fingered the tender skin of his cheek: “Stop flattering me,” he grumbled, at which Merlin laughed quietly: “Right. Sorry.” He regarded Harry with open affection now, stepping a little closer: “I'll make it up to you.”

“I know.” From this close, Harry caught Merlin's scent and immediately felt the urge to lean into the other man, to burrow into his warmth and firm, strong body and just stay like that for a while. With a pang of regret, he reigned himself in however; they were at work, after all, and there was a certain propriety to be maintained on these premises: gentlemen didn't cuddle publicly. 

“Go and get a shower, I know you're itching to,” Merlin now said softly. “I'll be home by ten at the latest.”

“Looking forward to it,” Harry replied in an equally low voice, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

 

He had dozed off on the sofa when Merlin let himself in a few hours later. Since there was no dog to announce the new arrival these days, Harry didn't wake up; he had never been a light sleeper.

Merlin, after taking off his coat and shoes, knelt down in front of his partner and just looked at him for a moment, tremendously glad to be there with him. Then he extended one hand and lightly touched the other's hand, not wanting to startle him. Harry, far from being alarmed, gave an endearing little snort before blinking his eyes open: “I wasn't asleep,” he muttered.

Merlin gently ran his hand over his cheek: “Of course not. You were clearly only resting your eyes.”

“You're taking the piss.”

“I wouldn't dare.”

Harry sighed: “Yes, you would. And you're the only one who's allowed to. You should feel appropriately honoured.”

“What about Arthur?”

“What about him?”

“He usually doesn't hold his tongue around you.”

“That's different. He's a pigheaded old codger at times, whereas _you_ 're pigheaded and lovely.”

Merlin grinned: “I hope you turned off your audio feed.”

“Doesn't matter,” Harry yawned, “I already told him so on several occasions. We do have an understanding.”

“Good. Kingsman'd be boring without you.”

“Let's not talk about work right now.” Harry put his hand on top of Merlin's and nuzzled into his touch, savouring it: “I missed you,” he said softly. “It felt like you were light-years away.”

Merlin knew what he meant.

 

Merlin woke up early on the following morning; gently, he disentangled himself from Harry's arms and went to the bathroom. When he came back, he found Harry sprawled across most of the available space, lying on his back with his mouth open. Amused, Merlin made to push him aside so that he could lie down again. Harry grunted and turned onto his side; with a content sigh, Merlin nestled against his back. Since he was too alert now to go back to sleep, he merely dozed for a while, half-listening to Harry's quiet breathing. After having been apart for several days, they usually slept wrapped around each other, as though they were subconsciously trying to make up for the lost time.

Harry stirred some two hours later; sleepily, he contemplated the comfort of waking up in Merlin's embrace like that, and how Merlin was the one person he had been able to rely on ever since they met. At first glance, Merlin appeared a little odd to some, tall and bald and stern-faced as he was. Yet when one looked more closely, one noticed his extraordinarily expressive eyes, the vulnerability of his mouth, the long, deft fingers, all of which served to evoke an inkling of the man's depths.

Most importantly to Harry, he had a kind heart, despite his oftentimes tough demeanour. If one listened carefully, one realized that Merlin rarely raised his voice and always spoke politely in that calm way of his. Even with his dogs, and Harry was convinced that there was a lesson to be learned here, Merlin had only ever been fairspoken.

“You're pondering,” Merlin now whispered, pulling Harry out of his musings and pressing a kiss on his neck.

“How did you know?”

“Your breathing pattern changed when you woke up. Usually, you start talking immediately. If you don't, you're pondering.”

Harry turned around so that he could look at the other: “You're astounding, and apart from that, I don't _always_ talk.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Sometimes, I kiss you.”

“Well, yes, but mostly it's talking.”

“Not today though. I'm done with the pondering and I don't intend to talk. You said something about making it up to me, after all.”

Merlin's eyes smiled at him: "I'm fully prepared to pay my debts right away."

“I love you," Harry muttered, leaning in for a kiss.

Merlin's answer was mostly unintelligible, but it probably ended with “too”.

 

TBC

 

 

 


	3. Down Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is ill, Harry takes care of him

 

The first thing Harry heard even before he had turned the corner to Merlin's work station was a rather violent sneeze, followed by a few muffled expletives.

“You look dreadful,” he said once he had reached the desk. Merlin turned to him: “Lovely to see you, too,” he said drily and with what sounded like a clogged nose.

Unable to hide a smile, Harry bent over to kiss him: “Hello,” he said quietly, and: “What are you doing? You're obviously ill, you shouldn't be working.”

Merlin sighed: “I'm not ill, it's just a cold.”

Wordlessly, Harry pressed the back of his hand against his partner's temple: “This isn't a fever then?”

“No,” Merlin said stubbornly, turning back to his computer.

“You need to go home.”

“No, I _need_ to enhance the security server front ends.”

“Can't that wait?”

“No. There's been an increasing number of organisations hacking into rather secure networks, we can't take any risks.”

“It's definitely a fever, Merlin.”

“Not until the servers are taken care of.”

“Can't I do it?”

“No. Well... Maybe. It's quicker and easier if I do it myself though.”

“You're a good teacher. You could just show me what to do. Otherwise I'll stay here, getting on your nerves until you cave.”

“Fine.” Merlin took off his glasses and briefly pinched the bridge of his nose; his head was aching somewhat fiercely, and at one point, his face had joined in. It had admittedly been difficult to concentrate, especially since his eyes were burning with fatigue and whatnot; he hadn't slept well in the previous night. 

“Come on,” Harry said gently. “Run me through it, then go home. You really should be in bed.”

 

An hour later, Merlin was at home. He didn't like leaving others to finish his tasks, but in this case it was Harry, whom he trusted more than anyone else in the world, and who, despite being hopeless when it came to technical matters, was going to follow Merlin's instructions to a T. He had written everything down, just to be sure.

With measured movements because of his aching joints, he slid out of his clothes and into his night things. It was a relief to crawl into bed, and an even bigger one to know that today, Harry was going to come home. He had been in South America for two weeks, and Merlin had missed him as he always did, no matter how long they were apart. It wasn't that he felt miserable when Harry wasn't there, but everything just seemed a bit duller, less enjoyable during his absence. Which was why Merlin preferred to be at work even though he had been feeling under the weather for the past few days.

He closed his eyes and hoped that his headache would be gone after he had gotten some sleep.

 

Harry came home in the early evening, carrying a bag with supplies which included whatever he had raided from the Kingsman infirmary (albeit with Morgan's permission after consulting him). Merlin was fast asleep, lying on his side and burrowed into the blankets. He was breathing audibly, and his skin was still rather hot to the touch. Harry cautiously sat down on the mattress and just looked at the other for a moment: typical of him to put work before his own welfare. At least now he wasn't on his own anymore, and Harry was going to take care of him.

 

For three days, Merlin mainly slept. Despite the medication, the fever didn't abate during that time, making him dizzy whenever he woke up. When Harry called Morgan because he was rather worried, the surgeon managed to calm him down somewhat: “It's just his body fighting off the infection. He's worked too much lately and didn't eat regularly, I presume. He's thin as a stick, isn't he?”

“Yes.” 

“There you have it. Just make sure he drinks enough and keeps warm, it's best to sweat it out. Stick to the medication, and once he's better, see to it that he eats. You could call your local GP, of course, but I bet he'd tell you the same.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, a little relieved. 

“My regards to Merlin,” Morgan said, “and tell him I said that one can't survive solely on tea and oat flakes.”

“Will do,” Harry replied, ringing off with a grin and reaching for a notepad. He was going to see to it that Merlin got nothing but decent meals into him once he felt better, because he had been thin before and very likely lost some more weight during the last few days. Whenever Harry had helped him change into fresh things he had been able to feel every single rib, or so it seemed. 

He made of list of things to buy, then went to check on Merlin. Very cautiously, he sat down on the edge of the mattress, but Merlin opened his eyes nevertheless. He looked exhausted despite all the sleep, and there were bruise-like shadows underneath his eyes.

“I didn't mean to wake you, love,” Harry said softly. 

“You didn't,” Merlin replied, his voice unusually feeble. “Can I have some water?” 

Harry refilled the glass on the nightstand; Merlin's hand shook ever so slightly as he took it, but he managed not to spill anything.

“Would you like anything else?” Harry asked. “Tea, perhaps, or broth?”

“No, thank you,” Merlin laid back and closed his eyes. “'m fine.”

The elation Harry had experienced since talking to Morgan ebbed away as he regarded his partner. Feeling rather useless, he gently caressed Merlin's overly warm temple: “Okay. Sleep well.”

Merlin didn't respond to that, therefore Harry sat with him a while longer, quietly watching over him. It was rather more unsettling to witness Merlin like this than he cared to admit to himself; the other man usually was so very energetic.

 

It turned out Morgan had been right; two days later, things began to look up. The fever decreased, and once it was gone, Merlin wasn't as depleted anymore. He was still tired but relocated to the sofa in the living room as soon as he felt up to it, trying to read and dozing off after two pages. When Harry removed his glasses and took the book out of his hands, he growled sleepily but didn't put up any resistance. He was still pale and looked as though a moderate breeze might knock him over, at least to Harry's eyes, but at least the fever was gone.

Harry made a pot of tea and carried it into the living room, then he pushed his favourite armchair closer to the sofa and made himself comfortable.

When Merlin woke from his nap an hour later, Harry had dozed off as well. Merlin fished for his glasses and slowly sat up, feeling woozy for a moment. He hadn't been this ill in quite some time and it astounded him how alien his body felt. Maybe he was simply getting old; a bout of the flu might not have had the same impact in his twenties as it did now. Or maybe he was just dramatizing things. He looked at Harry, who was snoring ever so softly, and felt a wave of affection washing over him. Unthinkingly, he extended one hand and gently stroked Harry's temple. The other's eyes immediately snapped open: “Are you all right?” he asked, blinking.

“Yeah, everything's fine,” Merlin replied, “stop treating me as a patient.”

“I'm not- oh well, yes, I was,” Harry said, sitting up. “In all fairness though, that's what you were.”

“Emphasis on the past tense. Leaving that behind now.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. And we could start by you joining me over here.”

“Sounds good to me.” Harry scrambled to his feet; a minute later, both of them were stretched out on the sofa, arms wrapped around each other.

“This is much better,” Merlin murmured, and Harry couldn't but agree.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm no Native Speaker, therefore all the mistakes you might have found are mine.


End file.
